


Haunted

by MiniMiney_Mo



Category: Original Work, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Inspired by Singularity's lyrics, Madness, Rated M just in case, up to interpretation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-25 10:57:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15639345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiniMiney_Mo/pseuds/MiniMiney_Mo
Summary: They haunt you. They chase you. And end up getting you.





	Haunted

**Author's Note:**

> Please do not read if you're sensitive and/or easily triggered. The more I read and think about it, I realize that this piece can be quite disturbing for some people. 
> 
> Also, this one-shot was directly inspired by Singularity's lyrics: "Try to cover my ears, but can't go to sleep."

Tossing.   
Turning.   
Trashing.  
  
Try to silence them, to make them shut up.  
  
Hear their screams.   
Laughs.   
Sobs.   
  
Cover your ears with your hands, then with your pillow.  
  
You still hear them.  
Their screams.   
Their laughs.   
Their sobs.  
  
They make you miserable. Every night. In every dream. Because they're everywhere. Because they haunt you.  
  
They're in your tired yawns in the morning.  
They're in your dull eyes in the mirror.  
They're in the rustling of your clothes when you dress up.  
They're in your classmates' smiles when you get to school.  
They're in the pages of your notebooks. In the ink of your pen. In the sunrays on a summer day. In the mocha you drink every afternoon. In...  
  
They haunt you.  
  
You no longer want to hear them. You cover your ears with your hands, then with your pillow.  
  
The sound is muffled, faint, not quite gone though and it keeps your eyes open and your conscience running.   
  
It's scary, terrifying, a real torture.  
  
Salty beads wet your cheeks, a sob escapes your mouth and your mind is nothing but a confused mess of dread, regret and sorrow.   
  
You wish you had heard them earlier. You wish you didn't have to listen to them now.   
  
Once again, you turn around, now lying on your side and pull your cover up and over your ears, praying that it will be enough to silence them.   
  
It's not.  
  
And for hours, you find yourself turning. Tossing. Trashing. _Again._  
  
They're still here, haunting you, torturing your tired mind and troubling your sleepless night. _As always._  
  
One particular shout has you jumping, fighting with your bed linen, now wrapped around you and stuck to your sweaty body, like a second skin.   
You grip your ears, as if you would rip them off your head, curl up into a ball, tears  drenching your face, your screams of pleas now mingling with theirs.  
  
Another hour goes by like this before they quieten to a terrifying murmur, still loud in your head.  
  
Morning finds you sniffling, mentally scarred, your arms firmly wrapped around your folded legs and whimpering like a wounded animal, and as light rises outside, you drift into a darkness from which you might never come back.  
  
And in this dusky and painful relief, as you are overtaken by deadly pitch black, a desperate whisper -that of your last words- slips from your cold lips.  
  
"I'm sorry."


End file.
